Page 22 of My Enemy Biker

Different than last night. Last night was claiming, fighting for dominance. This is need stripped bare. His mouth on mine like I'm oxygen and he's been underwater too long.

I kiss him back, let him take what he needs, give him everything I have. My hands in his hair, pulling him closer. His hands slide up my back, under my shirt, finding bare skin.

We break apart breathing hard. His forehead against mine.

"I need—" He stops. Tries again. "I need to not think for five minutes."

"Okay." I kiss him again, softer. "Okay."

We move toward the couch without planning it. He sits and I follow, climbing into his lap, my thighs spreading to bracket hiships. His hands come to my waist, thumbs sliding under the hem of my shirt to find bare skin just above my jeans.

I roll my hips and feel him hard beneath me through too many layers of fabric. The friction makes my breath catch. He groans, head falling back against the couch, throat exposed.

"Anna—"

"I know what I'm doing." I kiss his throat, feel his pulse jump. "Let me."

I slide off his lap, kneel between his legs on the floor. His eyes go dark when he realizes what I'm offering.

"You don't have to do this."

"I know." My hands go to his belt. "I want to."

I unbuckle the belt, unzip his jeans. He lifts his hips without being asked and I pull denim and boxer briefs down together.

His cock is hard, flushed dark, bigger than I expected and I realize with a sharp twist of want that I've been trying not to think about this for days.

I wrap my hand around him. Hot silk over steel, thick enough my fingers don't quite meet.

I stroke once, base to tip, watching his face.

His breath catches, his hands flex on the couch cushions like he's restraining himself from touching me.

I lean forward, lick the head of his cock, taste salt and him. His hips jerk involuntarily and the sound he makes goes straight between my legs.

I take him into my mouth.

Just the head at first, sucking gently while my tongue works the underside. His hand comes to my hair, fingers sliding in but not pushing. Just holding, anchoring himself.

I relax my throat and take him deeper.

Not all of him, he's too big, but enough that I feel it. Start building a rhythm, up and down, using my hand on what doesn't fit.

"Fuck." The word comes out strangled. "Anna, your mouth—"

I hum and he curses again, hips starting to move in small thrusts that match my rhythm. I let him, hollow my cheeks and suck harder.

His breathing gets ragged.

I can feel him getting close, thighs tensing under my free hand, fingers tightening in my hair.

"I'm going to—" Warning, giving me the option to pull back.

I don't pull back. Suck harder instead, faster, wanting this. Wanting to give him this release, this five minutes of not thinking.

He comes with a rough groan, hips jerking up.

I taste him, swallow, work him through it until he's pushing weakly at my shoulder because the sensation is too much.